Music Rains

Music rains down on this island. Most every night you can find it somewhere. Sunday night we went to North Beach Grill to hear The Velvet Caravan then moved on to Doc's Bar to hear Jefferson Owens. It was grand, vastly different, and wonderfully celebratory (except for the house wine at Doc's, which sucks. So I walked across the street to Bernie's to get some and brought it back to Doc's). We learned that night, there is no such thing as Ordinary People ... and C. S. Lewis says so. Tuesday night we returned to Doc's Bar for the Acoustic Jam, which is held in the back room away from the bar. I ended up with a guitar in my lap, Dedra breezed in and she and Sarah sang. Chip and I played. Dave banged the bongos. We didn't have a bass player but we did have fun. Wednesday night we went to The Rock House to hear Samuel Adams and Davy play damn good live music. Sitting there, a party broke out as a bunch of friends joined us. Last night, Sarah and I rode our bicycles to Social's to listen to Bottles and Cans, a very excellent blues band. We nibbled on food and had a nice visit with Roy Swindel who is the lead musician at Doc's Bar. It's funny that all of the players on the island are friends who support one another. Roy often shows up to listen to Samuel Adams and Samuel often gives electric cords to Roy when his break. I must point out that Roy is the only musician on the island with his own bobble-head doll. It's pretty cool actually and can be purchased to sit on your mantle back home. Now it's the weekend and music is everywhere. Fannies-on-the-Beach or Marlin Monroe's will have Liquid Ginger or Savannah Steve. Roy will be playing. Samuel will too. I'm think American Honey Band is at the Rock House tonight. Sunday at Bar Church the service is built around music. It's mostly "Happy Jack" stuff, but it's fun. Then it starts all over again next week. "I miss the birds singing in the morning," I said to Sarah yesterday. "Well lets open the windows again," she replied. So we did. It had been raining a lot so they had been shut. This morning, I lay in her arms, listening to the birds sing me awake. Palm Trees danced in the ocean breeze. The sun was lazy, slowly dragging the blanket of clouds off his shinny face. Stumbling downstairs for the morning baptism in the outdoor shower, our neighbor Scott is listening to Rolling Stones. "Wild Horses" couldn't drag him away. Me either. I love this place.